Cry
by Lamia of the Dark
Summary: Oneshot. It was just a normal day after Armageddidn't, until the Dragon Master of Gehenna showed up and started crying... AKA, that fic where Crowley comforts a crying child. (part of the same 'verse as "Sand and Feathers")


~ Cry ~

One moment, Crowley was walking down a crowded street with his angel, listening to Aziraphale try to decide where they should go for lunch... and in the next moment he found himself struggling not to fall over as a small form bulled straight into him.

He almost mistook her for a human child getting up to whatever shenanigans those tend to do.

"Crowley!" wailed the little figure that had attached herself to his waist, and then began to sob.

He couldn't quite place the voice, and couldn't see the child's face, pressed against his side as it was. There was nothing distinctive about the white-silver mop of hair sprouting from her head, or the casual athletic-style human clothing she wore. It was only by reaching out with his demonic senses that he finally recognized her.

Crowley gently disentangled Kurai's arms from his waist and held her away just far enough that he could kneel in front of her. The two stared at each other awkwardly for a few seconds. Kurai sniffled and hiccuped, tears still pouring down her face.

"C'mere," Crowley mumbled awkwardly.

At this, Kurai threw her arms around his neck and continued to weep.

In physical appearance, she was somewhere around eleven or twelve years old (according to human growth standards) - what humans generally considered 'too old' for a child to be carried around. Unconcerned with human social conventions, Crowley picked her up and stood up with the child cradled in his arms.

Noticing the way that Aziraphale was looking at him, Crowley quickly introduced the little demon to him: "This is Kurai, the Dragon Master of Gehenna." And to Kurai, although he couldn't be sure the kid was even paying attention, he said, "This is Aziraphale, the Angel of the Eastern Gate."

Kurai perked up at that. "An angel?" She turned to look back over her shoulder at Aziraphale. "Did you know Alexiel?"

"Alexiel... yes, I remember her," Aziraphale replied, a hint of a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. "She was always kind to me."

Which was more than could be said for most of the high-ranking angels in Heaven.

"She sided with Hell in the war, you know," Crowley put in.

Aziraphale, who was well aware of that and also did not think now was a good time to bring it up, shot Crowley a censorious look.

"Perhaps we should go somewhere quieter," the angel suggested, and it was at this point that Crowley remembered they were in the middle of a crowded sidewalk.

* * *

In the back room of Aziraphale's bookstore, Crowley sat on the couch with Kurai cradled in his lap, the demon child clinging to him, still crying. The angel sat beside them, uncertain whether he should _do_ anything to try to help, but wanting to offer his support as well.

"Now, what's this all about?" Crowley asked, once Kurai's sobs had quieted to just sniffles and the occasional uneven hitch in her breathing.

"Arachne-" Kurai started, but her voice broke.

Dreading the answer, Crowley asked apprehensively, "What happened to Arachne?"

The child broke into a fresh round of sobs, eventually managing to choke out the story. She'd found out that Arachne was actually her sibling, not her cousin, right before Arachne had sacrificed herself to save Kurai.

"But she's back now, yeah?" Crowley asked. "Not dead, just like everyone else who died in the not-quite-Apocalypse?"

"She's alive," Kurai confirmed. "But she left. She said she has to sort out her life on her own."

"And you're not used to being alone," Crowley said, relieved to finally have gotten to the root of the problem. "But she didn't say she wasn't coming back. It's alright. You'll see her again."

"But it hurts _now_," Kurai protested, clinging to him harder. "And I don't want to go back to Hell without her."

"Well, who says you have to go back? There's plenty of things to do up here..."

~end~


End file.
